


Trapped

by BookJQ36



Series: The adventures of Malcolm Reed and my OFC [1]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Best Friends, Drown Malcolm Reed Month, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Male-Female Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-12
Updated: 2008-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-15 16:58:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8064676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookJQ36/pseuds/BookJQ36
Summary: Our intrepid explorers are on a new planet exploring an alien pod when Archer decides they should take it for a spin. They didn't expect to end up crashing into that lake . . .





	1. Chapter 1

 

 _Unidentified Minshara-class planet, 1100 hours, July 8 2151_  

 The vessel sank slowly to the bottom of an alien lake, taking with it four Starfleet officers.

 " _Enterprise_! _Enterprise_ , please respond! _Enterprise_!" Frustrated, Trip turned off his communicator and put it away. He looked over at Captain Archer apologetically. "Sorry, Cap'n, there’s too much damn interference from the lake."

 Archer looked past Jean's shoulder as she finished seeing to the gash on his forehead. He tried to nod to Trip to indicate that it wasn't a huge problem, but a stern look from Jean warned him to hold still while she finished cleaning his wound. He compromised by nodding with his eyebrows and smiling in Trip's direction.

 "It's okay, Commander, but next time we find an alien shuttlecraft _I'm_ driving."

 Trip replied with a bob of his head and an ashamed half-smile-half-grimace. "Aye, Cap'n."

 "There." She moved back and stood up from where she had been kneeling on the floor of the pod in front of her patient.

 He looked up at her "You're done already?"

 She was busy packing up the med-kit and didn't look away from what she was doing. "Yes, sir. It wasn't too bad, just a knock on the head and a small cut."

 "But it bled so much..."

 "Head wounds do that. It's deceptive, because most of the time they're superficial." She looked around the pod again.

  _Trip's okay, I've just seen to the captain, and... damnit. I can't believe I forgot all about him. He's just been so quiet. He must be going out of his mind by now._

  _A bad dream... this has to be a bad dream. I’ll wake up any moment._

 "Sir?"

 Lieutenant Reed looked up after a lengthy moment. "Hmm?"

 He seemed calm. Perhaps nervous and a bit distracted, but that made sense, given the situation they were in. Being trapped in an alien craft at the bottom of a lake beneath who knows how much water would make anyone edgy, but Malcolm had more reason than most to be afraid; he suffered from aquaphobia, the distinct fear of drowning. It had stopped him from joining the Royal Navy and made him the first Reed in three generations who wasn't a Navy man.

 His father had taken Malcolm's joining Starfleet instead of the Navy as a personal insult. He didn't know how much his son had wanted to make him proud, god, _nobody_ knew that, but Stewart Reed, retired Admiral Stuart Reed had taken it personally.

 As soon as he'd found out about Malcolm's fear of the water, he had added it to the long list of what he considered to be his son's failings.

  _"You don't care enough about our family name to uphold our legacy of service to King and country. The ocean just isn't big enough for you, is it, boy? Well let me tell you something; even if you'd wanted to join up, the Navy wouldn't have had you. You're soft, you're weak and you're a coward. You're a risk to everyone around you, Malcolm Reed! Starfleet can have you, but it's their misfortune_."

 That was the last conversation they'd had in the same room together. It was years ago, how many years ago Malcolm couldn't remember exactly, but even though he was dozens of light years away he could still hear his father's criticisms as though they'd talked that morning.

 Malcolm was snapped out of his reverie when Ensign Olenick gently squeezed his arm.

 "Sir? Lieutenant? Are you okay?"

  _Just sound cheerful so she'll go away._

 "Oh, Ensign. Yes, I'm fine... thank you." He put on a small fake smile to match his tone but she didn’t seem convinced by it. "Was there something you wanted?"

 "To be allowed to fulfill my duties, sir. It's my job to see to the safety and well-being of all the members of the away team." Now she lowered her voice to just above a conspiratorial whisper. "That includes the fact that you have aquaphobia and we're stuck underwater with no obvious plan for escape."

 He looked at her sharply and then over her shoulder, checking to see that the captain and Trip hadn't heard what she just said. "Ensign, I'd prefer that you didn't say anything about that."

 His voice was clipped, a terse mixture of fear and annoyance. He was ashamed of what he saw as a personal weakness and didn't want any of his crewmates to know about it.

  _How safe can they be if the person who's supposed to protect them is too frightened to act? They can't find out. If the captain knew..._

 She noticed him looking at the officers, and smiled reassuringly when he focused on her again. "Don't worry sir. Like I told you during survival training: your secret's safe with me." It seemed like she had read his mind, which made him mildly uneasy, but even so the assurance made him feel a bit better.

 "Ensign?"

 The voice from behind startled her and she jumped slightly before turning around to see that Trip and the captain were looking at her expectantly. "Is he okay?"

 Malcolm’s eyes darted to her face, shooting her a brief but imploring look. She answered the captain without hesitation, shrugging slightly to complete the deception. "I’m not sure yet, sir. Do we have a plan for getting out of here?"

 Archer had opened a panel in the floor through which they could see dark rippling water, and Trip looked as though he was getting ready to jump in. When they landed they’d ended up resting on two rocky formations, one fore and one aft. Fortunately the floor panel was directly between the rocks so the exit wasn't blocked by anything.

 "Trip's about to try and find out how deep we are. If we aren't too far down, we'll try to swim to the surface and then to shore. Sub-Commander T'pol will be looking for us with Enterprise' sensors, so the rest should be easy..."

 "If we aren't under too much water," Malcolm added dourly.

 Trip rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, for all the world looking like a teenager being scolded for staying out too late. "I'm the one goin' out there. Y'could at least wish me some luck."

 All he got was a hollow "good luck, sir," but it seemed to be enough, because less than a minute later he jumped in.

 When he heard the splash Malcolm winced very slightly and then shook his head, looking more ashamed of himself than Jean had thought anyone could look.

 "I'm a coward." He muttered to his boots.

 She shook her head and matched his low tone, not wanting to clue the captain in as to what was really happening at their end of the shuttle. "No you’re not." He didn’t answer and looked down at the deck to avoid her gaze.

 "Sir, look at me! You’re one of the bravest people I've ever met. There's no shame in being afraid, and you aren't a coward if you don't allow fear to dictate your actions."

 He laughed but it was a short, humorless sound. "Oh? So why didn't I volunteer to check on our depth?"

 Wanting to put him at ease, she tried to mix some jocularity in with her seriousness. "Because, like I told the captain, I'm not sure whether you're okay or not, and you aren't going to do any swimming until I give you a clean bill of health."

 If there was a way out of this mess which didn’t involve swimming she’d be the first one to support it, for his sake. She was nothing if not protective of her patients. And friends.

 "Besides, Commander Tucker thought of it first."

 "Does Phlox know?" He was finally looking up at her again.

 "Excuse me?" This whole time she’d been fiddling with various pieces of the med kit to maintain the illusion that she was trying to figure out what was wrong with Malcolm. At the moment she was holding a scanner, but when he asked the question she was so surprised that she nearly dropped it.

 "Did you tell Phlox about my... problem? Is it in my medical file?" _Please say you haven't_.

 "No sir, it isn't in your file. It won't be unless you want me to put it there. I haven't told a soul, sir. Your secret’s safe with me."

 He visibly relaxed until a splash heralded Trip's return. "Damn, that water's cold!"

 Archer helped him back inside and then made sure that the door was sealed securely. "How does it look out there?"

 "We're less than eight meters down. I made it to the surface and back without any trouble, and I'd say the shore's about a fifteen minute swim away. Gettin' out of here won't be hard."

 Pleased, Archer nodded and looked over to Malcolm and Jean with a mild but growing concern. _What's really going on over there?_

"Ensign, is Mr. Reed fit to swim out of here?"

 She took out an empty hypo and administered it to her patient, turning afterward to address the captain. "He's good to go, sir." While she answered she kept an eye on Malcolm, watching for some sign of agreement or disagreement. After a few moments he gave a slight bob of his head which she interpreted as a grudging _fine, I'll try_.

 "Okay, so I don't think we need to hang around here any longer..." Archer started heading back over to the hatch.

  _Find some excuse to stay here just a little longer. I still need to talk him into it..._

 Fortunately, Trip did that for her. He didn't know that he was helping Jean and in effect Malcolm as well, he just needed a chance to rest after his swim.

 "Actually, Cap'n, I could use a couplea minutes to catch m'breath. The swim isn't too hard, but going to the surface and then comin' back here wasn't exactly a picnic."

 "Take a few minutes, Trip, but we need to get out of here soon. I don't want us to be in here when those welds start to give."

 The commander nodded before tiredly dragging a hand across his brow and then shaking the droplets onto the floor. "Understood, Cap'n. I won't take long."

 She turned back to see that Malcolm was staring past her at the hatch as though he was expecting water to come rushing through it at any moment. Her purposeful expression softened.

  _Such a sweet guy with such rotten luck... This isn’t about the mission anymore._ "Sir, you passed the swimming test during basic training, right?"

  _How is that relevant?_ He kept looking past her, studying the closed hatch the same way that a cornered rabbit studies the fox. "Yes, ensign. What about it?"

 "If I remember correctly, to pass that test we had to dive eight meters to retrieve a weight and then bring it back to the instructor at the side of the pool."

  _So what?_ He looked at her sharply. "Your point, ensign?"

  _Here goes. Logic, don't fail me now._

 "You passed that test, right? This is half that distance, swimming to the surface is much easier than going the other way, and there’s no weight to worry about. My point, sir, is that despite your fear you've done something before which was much harder than this will be. I think once you're in the water getting out of it won't be difficult for you."

 She smiled sympathetically, reaching for his hand. "The hardest thing you have to do is make the decision to get into the water in the first place. After that, you'll do fine."

 He snorted, shaking his head and refusing to look at her. “Sir...” She reached out and touched him arm, but he shook it off.

  _You’re not getting off that easy._

 “Sir...” Her voice was low and urgent but also plaintive. She wanted him to look away from the hatch. Just as people who are afraid of heights are told ‘don’t look down,’ staring at the source of his anxiety wasn’t helping Malcolm at all.

 "And if I don't do ‘fine’, if something goes wrong, what then?" He looked over at her, hoping that she hadn’t noticed the quaver in his voice.

 They studied each other anxiously for a long moment and she saw something unexpected. His cynical mask had slid away and his defenses were lowered, at least for the moment. His eyebrows were furrowed and almost touching, grey blue eyes were wide open and searching desperately for hope. He was afraid, bordering on panicked, but he wasn’t hiding it from her. He was actually letting her see his fear, trusting her enough to do that.

  _Good! Build on the trust!_

 "I saved you from drowning once, remember? I’ll be looking out for you." She touched his arm again, lightly, and this time he didn’t push her away.

 She was trying, he gave her that, but she just didn't understand. "I know that, Ensign, but..." He shook his head, frustrated by the whole situation.

 "It isn't that I want to stay down here. I'm no idiot. I understand that we need to swim out of here, but actually getting into the wa..." His voice died in his throat. _I can't even say it!_ He grit his teeth and closed his hands into fists, furious with himself. "Actually getting into the water is much harder for me than it should be."

  _Pathetic! You’re absolutely pathetic!_ He hung his head, trying to hide his face.

 "I won't pretend to understand how difficult this must be, but the fact is that you have to do this. I'll be right behind you the whole way up, and if you run into trouble just turn around. If you get tired you can grab my ankle and I'll help you get to the surface. So, what's it gonna be?"

 He realized that she had reached over and unclenched one of his fists while they were talking, putting her hand in his before it closed again. He couldn’t explain why, but somehow the physical contact was reassuring.

  _Why did she do that? Wait, she asked me a question._

 She squeezed his hand gently, disrupting his train of thought and he looked up at her, startled.

 “Ensign, I...” He looked down at the deck, then back up at her with a faint but wry smile. “I don’t suppose I actually have a say in the matter.”

 When he looked down he’d seen their hands twined together out of the corner of his eye.

  _“I’ll be looking out for you.”_

 He heard her words again, full of reassurance and kindness, but before he could smile at her, he heard his father’s words too, loud and disapproving.

  _"_ _You're soft, you're weak and you're a coward. You're a risk to everyone around you, Malcolm Reed!_ "

  _The proverbial angel on one shoulder and devil on the other, eh? but I know who I’m going to listen to. I’ll trust her. I do already, just..._

 He looked down at their hands again and felt something that he couldn’t explain. It was hope, but something else was there too and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. She would be his lifeline. She wouldn’t let him drown. She would help him and she would protect his secret. Knowing that gave him a warm, comforting feeling until his father started yelling in his head again _._

  _“You're a risk to everyone around you..._ "

_I hope she doesn’t endanger herself trying to help me._

 Without really thinking about it, he squeezed her hand in a silent ‘thank you’ and nodded that he was ready to go. _The sooner we get started the sooner we’ll be finished, right?_

 Not missing a beat she turned around. “Captain? Let’s get outta this rusty tin can.”

 Archer grinned and looked over at Trip, who nodded enthusiastically. “I’ve got my breath back, Cap’n.” He headed over to the hatch and bent down to get it open.

 The captain joined his chief engineer on the floor and helped him to open the seal. “So what are we waiting for? First one to shore gets to watch the Cal Tech Vs. MIT match!”

 Trip wrinkled his nose. “Water polo? I thought it was s’posed to be an incentive...” Trip chuckled as he and Archer pulled the hatch open.

 “Was that a joke at my expense, Commander?” Archer was giving Trip a dirty look.

 Trip shrugged and wiped his hands on his uniform, looking up at the older man from under his eyebrows and smiling mischievously. “It mighta been, Cap’n. It mighta been.”

 “Well Trip, this joke’s on you.” He pushed Trip towards the open hatch and Trip fell into the water with a loud splash. He reappeared a second later, spluttering and wearing an expression of shock, but he quickly moved over to one side of the opening and lounged against it.

 “Now that was refreshing! Come on in, Cap’n, the water’s fine.”

 Archer laughed, motioning for Trip to get out of the way, and jumped in.

 Malcolm shook his head. “How can they treat this like a big joke?” he muttered.

 “They aren’t,” Jean whispered. “They both know how serious this is. They’re just trying to hide how nervous they are by clowning around.”

 Malcolm smiled to himself and raised an eyebrow at her, suddenly very amused. “Like someone else I know?”

 She looked sidelong at him and smiled ruefully. “Like someone else you know.”

 Trip and the captain finished splashing each other and became serious again.

 “Okay, to get to shore you’re gonna take a left to get out of these rocks and then just head towards the sunlight. It’s kinda long, so get a good deep breath and try to get a solid kickoff from one of the rocks. Once you get to the surface head for the closest beach.”

 Archer patted Trip on the shoulder, thanking him for the speech, and smiled encouragingly at his people. “I’ll see you all at the surface. Good luck everybody.”

 Everyone nodded and Jean grinned. “Good luck, Captain. As for what you said earlier, I’ll kiss whoever gets to shore first.”

 The men all perked up at her offer, not sure whether she was actually serious or just fooling with them. Trip turned to the captain and pointed to Jean, grinning hugely, as though she had proved his earlier point.

 “Now _that_ ’s what I call an incentive!” He didn’t seem to care about the sincerity of the offer, he just took a deep breath after making his comment and sped out of sight.

 Archer looked at the two other members of his team. _What’s going on with those two?_ He shook his head. He’d ask them about it after the mission was over, but he knew that his curiosity would probably diminish when they got back to Enterprise.

  _It probably isn’t all that important. I’ll think about it later._ He smiled at them and nodded. “See you at the surface.” A quick deep breath, a splash and he was gone too.

 “So...” Malcolm turned to her slowly. She didn’t say anything in response, just stood there with him, looking at him expectantly. “So...“ he started again, “I guess it’s just us then?”

 “Are you ready?” She looked up at him, waiting for an answer.

 “Ready as I’ll ever be.” He nodded, forced a smile and stole a brief glance at the open hatch. He winced and silently cursed himself. _Bad idea! Shouldn’tve done that, Malcolm_.

 “Sir, don’t.” She stepped between him and the hatch so he couldn’t see it. “You can do this. Don’t convince yourself that you can’t.”

 His palm was sweaty and his fingers were twitching slightly against her hand. _Nerves, but he’s been holding up well. He just needs a little more encouragement._ She squeezed his hand again.

 He seemed surprised by the gesture _. Wait, we’ve been holding hands this whole time? I must’ve forgotten..._

 “You can do it, sir. Just think about getting to the surface and breathing in that sweet, fresh air. Don’t think about anything else, okay?”

 He nodded. _Right, concentrate on taking care of business_. “Who’s going first?”

 She looked at him in alarm which she tried to pass off as confusion. _Shit! Right, how do I say this so he’ll take it well?_

 “We can only get in one at a time, so...” He frowned. “You said you’d be behind me on the way up?”

 She nodded, trying not to smile. _Yes, connect the dots you wonderful smart person. Thank you whatever benevolent deity watches over doctors, travelers and armory officers!_

 “Which would mean that I’m getting in first?”

 She nodded again, allowing a small grin to curl her mouth. “It’d be tricky to watch your back from in front of you.”

 He smiled and tried to laugh as he reluctantly let go of her hand and stepped over to the hatch. _Maybe there is something to this idea of laughing in the face of fear._ “Ensign.”

 “Yes sir?”

 “Did you really mean it when you offered that kiss?” He had a hard time keeping a straight face while he asked.

 She narrowed her eyes at him but couldn’t quite hide her amusement. “Now who’s acting inappropriately silly, hmm? Mr. Reed, I wasn’t sure you had it in you.”

 He grinned sheepishly and made a ‘maybe’ type gesture with his eyebrows.

 “Get in already. If Trip or the captain get to shore before us I’ll never hear the end of it.” Her voice was stern again but still encouraging.

 When he didn’t move she resumed coaching him. “Don’t think about it, just do it. Take a good deep breath, and...” She caught him looking at her critically and stopped cold.

  _And when I’m trying to help you, you ungrateful..._ She crossed her arms and scowled at him. “Do you want my help or not?”

 “I’m sorry, Ensign.”

  _Okay. He sounded sorry_.

 “Take a deep breath and let it out. Now take an even deeper breath and jump in.” He waited for a moment, steeled himself, and then jumped.


	2. Chapter 2

 

Under the water everything looked soft and rounded. _Funny, it’s the first time I’m seeing a lake bottom and I’m dozens of light years from home._ He headed out of the rocks, found a big one and pushed off from it as hard as he could.

 At first it was easy. Very easy, really, since every instinct was screaming at him to get out of the water and that was what he was supposed to do. Well, he was supposed to go to the surface where there was air, but he couldn’t help thinking _there’s air in the alien pod too_. He looked back a few times but pretty soon he couldn’t tell where it was anymore, so then the only way for him to breathe again was to head for the surface.

  _I can do this. Just think about basic training. This’ll be much easier than that was. I even got a pep-talk this time._

 He tried to distract himself, not thinking about where he was and just moving his limbs mechanically. _Swim away from Death, head towards the light!_ A terrible cliché but it worked as a mantra. At least it worked at first.

 Suddenly his chest tightened and his breath came quickly. But there was no air for him to breathe. _Air!_ He kicked his legs and pulled with his arms, trying to reach the shimmering patch of light which he knew was the surface.

  _Swim away from Death, head towards the light!_

 The mantra didn’t really work anymore. Every stroke brought him closer to the light and the silhouettes of his crewmates far above him, but they were also draining his strength. His lungs were burning, his arms were tired and heavy and he just couldn’t kick anymore. He wouldn’t make it in time _. I always knew I’d die like this._

 His eyes stung as he looked around frantically, trying to find Jean. She’d promised to help him but _where was she?_ Air bubbles escaped from his mouth and nose as he started to panic, heading upwards faster than he could. Losing precious oxygen to his fear.

  _She isn’t behind me. I’m all alone down here. They’ll find me, but it won’t be soon enough..._

 His vision got blurrier and dimmed but suddenly he saw a dark shape appear alongside him in the gloom. It came closer and he recoiled in fear. He didn’t know what it was and he didn’t care, he just wanted to get away from it. His chest rose and fell spasmodically as he kicked for the surface, trying to get more oxygen from the stale air in his lungs. The shape moved toward him again and he panicked until it grabbed his hand and smiled, squeezing his hand in a familiar way before placing it just above her foot.

 He held on tightly and they shot upwards, going faster than he thought was possible. They both propelled themselves upward in a final sprint and then their heads broke the surface.

 He let go of her foot, wildly kicking and pawing at the waves to keep his head above water. A pair of arms caught around his chest and, panting, he craned his neck to see that Jean was holding him to herself, helping him stay afloat. Too breathless to say anything, he offered her a tired smile and a nod as thanks. She smiled in return and patted his shoulder before letting her eyes close.

 Malcolm dropped his head back against her shoulder, panting raggedly, and his eyes drifted shut. Jean cracked one eye when she felt his head resting on her shoulder, and smiled to herself. He’d done well. Extraordinarily well, really, for someone with a phobia of drowning. What was even better, though, and what she saw as significant progress, considering the fact that he usually wasn’t very trusting, was how he was leaning on her at that moment, relying on her to help him stay afloat and to keep his head from going under. She tightened her arms around him, making sure that he wouldn’t slip beneath the surface. She didn’t want to violate the trust he’d placed in her. Soon after, her breathing started to steady, but she stayed in the same spot, treading water and filling her lungs until she felt ready to keep going.

 Once she had her breath back, she craned her neck, trying to get a look at Malcolm’s face. He still had his eyes closed and his chest was heaving.

  _He’s not ready yet._

 Jean sighed, but it was quiet enough to be mistaken for just another winded breath. She was torn for a minute, but then decided to start back to shore. She kept one arm looped around his chest, holding him to herself and keeping his head out of the water as she started kicking towards the beach.

 A short while later, Malcolm frowned, opening his eyes. “The shore seems closer.”

 She nodded, continuing to kick. Her legs were getting tired from propelling the combined weight of herself and Malcolm, and the arm that was still holding him had started to cramp. “I got my breath back and figured we might as well get under way.” She shifted around to be in front of him, facing him and doing a variation on the backstroke. She also switched arms, hoping that using the other one to swim with would stretch it out and get rid of the cramps. Their faces were close now, a little too close for comfort, actually, noses almost touching. Jean smirked to herself, remembering Jeff from _Coupling_ and his theory about ‘nose avoidance tilting’, wherein, just prior to a kiss, people tilt their heads to avoid bumping noses.

 She shook her head. _We’re friends. Why am I thinking about that?_ and focused on their situation again.

 “Think you can cover the rest of the distance yourself?”

 The words might have sounded unkind, but her tone was so soft and warm that he knew she meant well. He swallowed, nodding, and she gave him a huge, beaming grin to encourage him. “Good. I’m staying close, so, if you do need...”

  _Rescuing._

She trod water, shaking her head and berating herself for the implication. “Forget the last bit. I’ll be nearby if you need me.” She smiled a tiny bit, thinking that it really wouldn’t be too hard for her to propel both of them to the shore, especially if he kicked at the water every so often. He was obviously apprehensive about swimming on his own, and the chance to make it easier on him was very tempting, but she knew that if Malcolm could make it to shore with only minimal help, it would really help him to deal with his fear.

 “OK.”

Malcolm nodded, tensing his jaw as she uncurled her arm from around him. With it gone, there was a moment when he felt the water lapping at his shoulders, and he fought back the urge to cling to her again, like he had during survival training. He knew that she wouldn’t let him drown, he _knew_ it, and he was a decent enough swimmer, but he didn’t want to be in the water alone, because he _also_ knew that trying to swim on his own almost never turned out well.

Jean was bobbing by his elbow, waiting for him to set off towards the beach so she could follow. She must have read the conflict on his face, because she reached out, touching his shoulder. “C’mon, Malcolm,” she smiled again, playing her fingers across the fabric of his sopping wet uniform. “We need to get to shore.”

He bit his lip nervously, clamping down on his panic at being in the water and severely embarrassed by it. Malcolm hated for anyone to see him when he was this vulnerable. Of course, Jean had seen him when he was in worse shape, during survival training and after Terra Nova, and he knew that she didn’t think less of him for what he considered awful shows of weakness, even though part of him wondered why she didn’t. What he didn’t know was that she found it endearing. He usually seemed so in control of himself, and she envied that composure, but moments like this reassured her that he wasn’t actually perfect.

“I know, but... it may take a while.” He looked up at the sky, finding it equally hard to meet her eyes or look at the water. Malcolm swallowed, risking a self-conscious glance at her after a lengthy pause. “I’m hardly the best swimmer.”

_Bloody understatement of the century._

She just nodded sympathetically, letting her hand drop away from him and starting to swim off, knowing that he would follow her closely. “And that’s okay, Malcolm.” She was doing the backstroke so they could face each other. Jean didn’t want to turn her back on Malcolm, either literally or figuratively, and not just because she was worried and wanted to keep an eye on him. It seemed that when they were facing each other, it helped him somehow. “There’s no rush. We’ll go as slowly as you need to.”

 He kicked at the water, easily keeping up with the slow pace she had set. He was thankful that she was swimming backwards, because it meant that he could see her reassuring smile, and since he could see her face when she spoke, he’d be able to tell if she was being sincere or not. “What about your promise of a kiss to whoever makes landfall first?” Normally, Malcolm wasn’t one to start chit-chatting, but if he couldn’t rely on physical contact to distract himself from being afraid, conversation and eye contact would have to do.

 Jean looked around, catching sight of Trip and the captain closing in on the beach. She groaned. “God, why did I say that?”

 Malcolm felt himself start to relax a little. “Were you serious?” He was only partially teasing. He was curious, and, since it seemed like the other men would reach shore first, almost disappointed that one of them would be getting a kiss.

  _Don’t be daft. You’re friends with her, no call for jealousy._ He shook his head a little, more at himself than at her. _But in any case, she shouldn’t be thinking about kissing her superiors. It’s most inappropriate._

 She glanced over at him, then turned her head back to shore, making sure that they were heading for the beach. “I don’t know. Maybe.” She grinned. ”Depends on who gets there first.”

 Jean ducked under the surface for a few seconds, taking several strokes underwater and allowing herself to just enjoy swimming before she had to come up for air. Since leaving Earth, she had unhappily resigned herself to the idea that there wouldn’t be any opportunities to swim until the crew took shore leave. She loved being in the water almost as much as Malcolm hated it, and she felt more than slightly guilty about having so much fun while her friend was on the verge of a panic attack. Still, she was looking after him, and that helped to diminish the guilty feeling. After all, _she_ wasn’t the one who had crashed them into the lake, and _she_ hadn’t had the idea to take an abandoned vessel for a spin. It wasn’t her fault that the mission turned out the way it had, but now that they were in this situation with the lake, she wanted to take advantage of the fact that they were taking a dip.

 Malcolm was trying to focus on moving his limbs mechanically and not think about his surroundings, when a splash from a few meters ahead startled him. His heart jumped into his throat at the watery sound and he chided himself.

  _Don’t be a fool. We’re swimming, of course there are going to be splashes._

 He blinked a few times, trying to force himself to breathe slowly and ignoring the hammering in his chest. There were so many things to do all at once – keep kicking to move forward, move his arms so his head stayed above the small waves, and keep sight of Jean, because she was looking out for him. She wouldn’t let him drown… Malcolm looked around and blinked again, thinking his eyes must be playing tricks on him. Jean was nowhere to be seen, and the two other members of the away team had stepped out of the shallows and onto the sand. He was alone in the lake.

 Malcolm spun around, doing a 360º sweep for her, but she was gone.

  _Where… the splash, of course!_

 Jean had gone under again, opening her eyes this time. The murky bottom wasn’t too far below, less than half the depth of where they’d crashed, which indicated that they’d make landfall soon. Before she came back up, she turned completely around, looking for Malcolm. He was pretty far behind her, so she doubled back towards him. She found that it was easier to move quickly underwater, but since she felt obligated to look after Malcolm, she didn’t want to leave him alone for too long or get too far ahead of him. Jean had noticed that Malcolm seemed calmer when she was nearby, and the last thing they needed was for him to start panicking.

 As she got closer, Jean saw that Malcolm was moving erratically, churning up the water around himself into foamy eddies. _Oh no._ She surfaced close to him, wiping the water from her eyes with one hand while the other gently grasped his shoulder. “Malcolm?”

 He fought to get control over himself, holding his tongue tightly between his teeth and wishing that he could stop hyperventilating. It was ridiculous. He was only acting this way because she’d disappeared, and now that he didn’t have to look _for_ her, he couldn’t even look _at_ her.

 “Malcolm?” Both of her hands were resting on his shoulders now. He didn’t answer, so she put her arms around him, not sure that he’d appreciate the gesture, but knowing that having someone to hold on to might help him to calm down.

 She shook her head, hating herself a little bit when he didn’t react. _Damned selfish. I shouldn’t be messing around when he needs a friend to look out for him._

“I’m sorry. I was checking on how deep this part of the lake is, and I…”

 “You love swimming.” His voice was low, with a bitter edge to it, and the statement almost sounded like an accusation. _You love it, and it scares me half to death._

 She took hold of his upper arms and resumed doing the backstroke, making sure that he came along with her. Malcolm numbly started kicking, helping to move them along, but he wouldn’t look at her. He was slowing her down. He had no right to expect her to move at a crawl just because that was the fastest he could go. She was an excellent swimmer, almost half fish, and he... Of course she’d gotten impatient and gone on ahead.

 Jean reached one hand up, touching his face when it seemed that was the only way to get his attention. Once he looked at her, she smiled sheepishly. “I do love swimming, but that’s no reason to…” Jean shook her head. “I’m not gonna leave you out here. We’re getting to shore together, and I’ll fuck around on my own time, okay? Making sure that you’re okay is more important.”

 His mouth twitched. At some point, his hands had found their way onto her waist and just then they were resting on her hips. She either hadn’t noticed or didn’t care, but either way, she seemed satisfied that he had calmed down enough so that she could let go of his arms, leaving him swimming on his own.

 Malcolm wanted to grab her and cling like a limpet until they reached the shore, just so he’d be certain that she wouldn’t go off again, but instead he nodded and let her slide away.

 She glanced over at Malcolm and was relieved to see grim determination on his face instead of fear. _I can’t ask him to speed up, and I won’t leave him behind_. By that point, Malcolm was simply too tired to care about anything besides getting back to dry land. The energy his fear had given him had been used up underwater and now none of it was left. He still hated water, and swimming, and lakes in general, but he was too tired to panic and he knew that for the moment swimming couldn’t be avoided.

  _I’ve got to remember to stay behind the next time Captain Archer decides to take a derelict for a test drive. Joyriding on a mission indeed. It’s space and good dry land for me from now on. No more missions with swimming for this lieutenant!_

 They dragged themselves out of the water and up onto the beach. Once they were far away from the edge of the water, they let themselves fall onto the sand. They lay there motionless for a long time, not moving or speaking or doing anything except trying to get their breath back. It took some doing to remember that they were actually lying by the shores of an alien lake on an alien world dozens of lightyears from Earth.

  _I did it. I actually did it! I swam out!_ He smiled up at the blue sky defiantly, feeling utterly ridiculous but not caring.

 She looked over and saw how happy he was. His joy was infectious and soon she felt a silly grin spreading across her own face. “Hey,” she nudged him and rolled up onto one elbow. “We’re alive. Surprised?”

 “A little,” he admitted and paused, looking thoughtfully up at the fluffy clouds before turning to her. “I should thank you. Without your help I’m not sure I could have done it.”

  _Handle this carefully._

 She shook her head and then reached over to brush some sand out of his hair. “Happy to help, but you did it. I only talked and provided a bit of a taxi service.”

 He returned the favor, carefully brushing some sand off her cheek with his thumb. “All the same, thank you. Your talking helped a great deal.” He chuckled, “as did the taxi service.”

 Both of them fell silent, looking at the clouds and around the beach, content to do their exploring with their eyes. For now curiosity about their surroundings would have to be satisfied this way, since neither of them was ready to move just yet. A more detailed exploration would have to wait until later.

 Sunlight glinting off the water caught Malcolm’s eye and he stared at it thoughtfully.

  _I fought you and I won. My fear did not control me_.

 He inhaled deeply, enjoying the way that his chest rose and fell with each breath. He felt full but light, like he was lying on a cloud. _She was right, the air up here is sweet._

 A hand touched his arm and he smiled but didn’t look away from the lake. _We won_ , he corrected, watching as small waves broke on the pebbles at the shoreline.

 When she spoke, her voice was low and earnest. “Thank you for trusting me.”

“Any ti...” He turned to face her just as she leaned over to kiss his cheek. Because he had turned, the kiss ended up brushing over his lips.  He blinked, stunned, and didn’t know what to make of it.

 “Hey, we got to shore before you did! Why does he get a kiss?”

 She sighed heavily and rounded on the speaker. “Well sir, we’re alive and mostly unharmed. I think that’s cause for celebration.”

 Archer grinned as he walked up with Trip. “She does have a point, Commander. However, _ahem_ ” He cleared his throat dramatically and looked around before locking eyes with her and smiling fiendishly. “I believe that you owe me a kiss, Ensign, since I was the first one to reach shore.”

 The men all looked at her, wondering whether she would actually go through with it. Their uncertainty was very amusing, but she only kept them in suspense for a few moments.

  _Well, at least it isn’t Trip. What I wouldn’t give to see his face when we kiss!_

 She sat up on the sand and motioned for Archer to come closer. He knelt in front of her so their faces were less than a hand span apart. Brown eyes looked into green-gray ones before both heads inclined. Out of the corner of her eye Jean saw how horrified Malcolm looked at the lack of professionalism and Trip seemed to be kicking himself for not getting to shore faster. She felt awkward about it too, so at the last second she changed course and kissed Archer on the cheek.

 He sat back from her, smirking ruefully and tipping his head to one side as he raised his eyebrows. “You really are a tease sometimes.”

 “Only sometimes, sir? I’ll have to work on that.”

 Archer cleared his throat uncomfortably and stood up, brushing the sand off his uniform. “So, um... let’s get out of here. There’s still that forest to explore.”

 Trip looked at his friend with an expression Archer couldn’t quite fathom. Jealousy, amusement, surprise, and a touch of anger all fought for dominance on his face.

  _I shouldn’t be so damn surprised. She’s been shuttin’ me down for over a year now, an anyway I’m still dating Natalie. Well, writing to her and gettin’ her letters isn’t exactly dating, but she’s still my girlfriend. Guess I should be happy that it was the Cap’n and not me. Kissing Jean would mean being unfaithful to Natalie and I’m not that kinda guy._

 Malcolm got to his feet and was about to offer Jean a hand up when he saw that Trip had already beaten him to it. She brushed sand off of herself and smiled at Malcolm, motioning for him to turn around. He tilted his head slightly and seemed confused.

 “You have dried leaves on your back, sir.”

 He nodded and obliged, letting her brush the beach debris off his damp uniform. There was so much sand clinging to him that she didn’t bother trying to get rid of it. _It’ll fall off when his clothes are dry._

 He looked at her over his shoulder. “Am I clean?”

 She smiled and shrugged slightly. “Mostly. I’m not even going to try getting rid of all the sand.”

 They started walking along the beach after the captain, who was heading for the forest. Trip came up alongside her and grinned. “As long as you’re just giving it away... “

 She blew him a kiss and he looked comically disappointed, but then her expression changed from cheerful to worried.

 “Shit.”

 “What? Something wrong?” Both men looked at her curiously.

 When she answered her voice was so low they could barely hear her. “The med kit is still on the shuttle. At the bottom of the lake.” She hung her head and then looked up at both men through her hair.

 Malcolm groaned quietly and Trip stopped dead in his tracks to look at the water. He stood there silently until “Cap’n! We’ve got a problem.”

 “Trip? What is it?”

 Jean put out her hand and touched Trip’s arm. She shook her head and gave him a steady look before she stepped up to the captain. Her meaning was crystal clear and Trip nodded as he let her pass.

  _I’m the one who screwed up, so I’ll handle it._

 Trip respected that, but he couldn’t stop a tiny smirk from curling the corner of his mouth as she went over to his friend and C.O. _Jon’ll love this_

 “The med kit is still on that shuttle, sir.”

 Archer’s eyebrows shot up, disappearing into his hair. “In the lake?”

 She shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other but didn’t look away. “Yes sir.” After a minute of meeting the captain’s gaze she dropped her eyes to the sand. _Back in the principal’s office. Again._

 Archer kept looking at her after she started intently studying the sand. It seemed like he was about to say something but he just shook his head and took out his communicator. Fortunately the pocket he’d put it in was water-proofed, so being underwater hadn’t affected it.

 “Archer to T’Pol.”

 Her level voice came through the comm “Go ahead, Captain. We lost contact with you an hour ago. Do you require assistance?”

 “No, we’re fine but we need to use the transporter to retrieve some equipment. I’m transmitting the coordinates now. Beam the away team med-kit onto Enterprise and then to my position.”

 The sub-commander paused briefly before she answered. Archer could just picture her sitting at her station and arching an eyebrow. “Understood. Was there anything else, Captain?”

 A few seconds later there was an odd high-pitched whirring noise and the med kit materialized on the sand near the captain’s feet in a blur of bluish light.

 “That should do it. We’ll be coming back to Enterprise an hour or so later than we’d planned to because of our little adventure. I’ll fill you in once we’re back. Archer out.”

 He bent down, picked up the kit and handed it to Jean who was smiling uncomfortably.

 “Thank you, sir.”

 She stood still, not sure what she was supposed to do until the captain smiled, shook his head and turned towards the woods. As Archer walked away, she heard him mutter “trouble maker.” He glanced over his shoulder afterwards and saw that she was giving his back a dirty look.

 They broke into two teams and started to explore the forest, agreeing to meet at the shuttlepod in an hour. Trip and Archer went south, staying near the water, while Jean and Malcolm volunteered to go further into the woods in a northwest arc.

 Jean and Malcolm went five hundred meters or so into the forest, walking around and taking scans of the local plant and animal life. After about half an hour they drifted a few meters apart. Malcolm was usually pretty quiet, but he hadn’t said anything at all since they left the beach.

 A strange rustling kind of noise behind one of the large plants attracted her attention. She started towards the sound, but then decided to scan the area before going any closer.

  _I guess Malcolm’s caution must be rubbing off on me._

 The scanner picked up one human biosign behind the large plant. She put the scanner away and walked towards him, being careful to tread softly on the undergrowth. When she came around the trunk she saw that Malcolm was sitting on the ground and leaning against its base. His chin was propped up with one of his hands and that elbow was resting on his raised knee. It seemed like he was deep in thought, and every so often he’d shake his head slightly.

 She came closer, trying to be silent so she wouldn’t startle him, but when she’d almost reached him a twig snapped under her foot. Right away his head whipped around and she froze, caught in his surprised stare. A flash of something other than surprise passed over his face, but before she could say a word, he looked down at the ground. She studied him for a moment and then sat down next to him.

 They sat together in silence for a few minutes before he spoke.

 “Am I a coward?”

 She looked at him sharply, more than surprised. “What?” _How can he even think that?_ Her face softened as she studied him closely. He was looking at her steadily and seemed to really want her opinion.

 She shook her head, sighed, and linked her arm through his. “Of course you aren’t. Sir, you’re one of the bravest people I’ve ever met. I’ve known that ever since you risked your neck to pull me out of quicksand. It takes a lot of courage to put yourself in danger to protect other people, and you do that almost every day.”

 Some embarrassment crept into his face, but a smile started tugging at his mouth. He looked away from her and then back again critically. “Not every day. Most days I don’t do much aside from running scans and performing routine system checks.”

 She rolled her eyes and gently poked him in the ribs with her elbow. “And how many of those system checks involve equipment that isn’t weapons or related to the weapons systems? It takes guts to do what you do. I don’t understand how you can’t see that. “

 He began to nod and then slowly shook his head. “Still, that” he gestured towards the lake, very thankful that trees were obscuring their view and they couldn’t see the shoreline anymore, “that has to count against me.”

  _How brave can I be if I can’t keep my head on a mission?_

 “Facing your fears and doing what you have to in spite of them _is_ brave, and that’s exactly what you did today. You kept yourself together under some damn stressful circumstances. That’s something you can be proud of. Everyone’s afraid of something. People who aren’t afraid of anything are the ones I worry about.”

 “I suppose.”

 “Hey,” she touched his arm again. “At least you like stickers.”

 When he’d first told her about his aquaphobia, one of the things she’d done to reassure him was telling him about a guy she met in college who had the silliest fear she’d ever heard of: he was deathly afraid of stickers. ‘Your fear isn’t silly,’ she’d said to Malcolm. ‘It’s based in reality and it’s something that could realistically harm you. You have absolutely no reason to be embarrassed. He, on the other hand...’ She’d trailed off, trying to hide a grin. ‘Him I’ll laugh at. I mean, stickers! Honestly...’

 He smiled, hastily clearing his throat. “Thank you. And I’m sorry for disappearing on you like that.”

 “Don’t worry about it, sir, and please stop apologizing. Besides,” she flashed him a secretive smile and her voice dropped to a whisper, “this never happened.”

 That coaxed a laugh out of him before he looked down at his hands, but then he caught sight of his scanner lying on the ground. Seeing the scanner instantly reminded him of their reason for being in the woods and on the planet in the first place. The smile began to fade from his face as he reluctantly picked up the scanner, dusted it off carefully, and then put it back in his pocket.

 “Well, Ensign, I suppose we should be going.”

 She watched him hesitate briefly and then stand up, and was a little surprised to find that she didn’t want to go back to exploring just yet. It had been nice just sitting and talking to Malcolm, and, even if it hadn’t lasted for more than a few minutes, she’d enjoyed spending time with her friend. True, they saw each other every day, but that was always in the context of being crewmates. It wasn’t often that they could simply interact as friends.

 “Yes, sir, I suppose we should.” She realized that her reluctance had shown in her voice, but found that she didn’t really care. So he knew. So what? He didn’t exactly seem thrilled about having to get back to business, either.

 Malcolm’s hand was extended in front of her, offering to help her up. She reached out to take it and a second later was on her feet again. Her mouth curled into a lopsided grin and her eyes shone mischievously. “Wanna play hooky?”

 Malcolm’s eyes went wide. “What?”

 “Well,” she scuffed her foot on the ground, suddenly regretting her suggestion. “We could keep talking for a little while, if you like. The captain and Trip won’t be too worried if we’re a few minutes late for the rendezvous. I miss just talking to you. It seems like we just grab an occasional conversation in the mess, and then one of us has to run off again.”

 For a fleeting moment, Malcolm was tempted to stay. She’d hit the nail on the head, seemingly echoing his thoughts. He also missed having good conversations with her. He enjoyed their easy friendship and regretted that over the past few months it had taken a backseat to their other shipboard duties. _But we still should get to the rendezvous on time. Better to not make the captain worry at all. The way today has gone, he might very well assume the worst._

 He shook his head, wanting to avoid that eventuality but still reluctant to leave. “We should go, Ensign.” He softened slightly at her accusatory, puppy-dog expression. “We can always talk on the ship, we’ll just have to make the time.”

 She nodded her assent, then picked up her med-kit to signal her readiness to go. “Okay, sir. As long as I have your word.”

  _Even after my performance today, she still trusts me. Incredible._

 Malcolm smiled gently, holding up his right hand, palm out and three fingers extended in the Eagle scout salute. “Scout’s honor.”

 They’d been heading away from the tree for about a minute, when she suddenly laughed quietly and shook her head. “Funny.”

 “What is?” He looked over at her curiously as a tight knot formed in his stomach. _Oh god, please don’t be laughing at me_.

“It’s just... “ She looked up at him with her eyes sparkling. ”I never thought I’d have to talk sense into you. Ever. I just always assumed it would be the other way ‘round, like just now. I _am_ the silly one...”

He smiled at her and nodded, letting out a relieved breath as the knot disappeared. “Well, Ensign, you are less sensible than I am most of the time.”

There was a brief flicker of something behind his eyes when he spoke, but she wasn’t sure what it was. She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment before touching his arm. “Did you think I was laughing at you?”

 His pace slowed and he turned to her in surprise. _How does she do that?_ “I was... concerned for a few moments.”

 When he looked over at her again, she seemed hurt. “Sir, I’d never do that to you.” He nodded and began to pick up the pace, figuring that was what she’d say to anyone in this situation.

 A glance at him as they sped up showed that his face was set in a rigid mask of professionalism. She sighed. _He isn’t used to having close friends, remember? To get through to him you’ll have to make sure he knows that you really mean what you’re saying_.

 He wasn’t just Malcolm Reed anymore, the man she’d become good friends with during survival training. Now he was Lieutenant Reed, ship’s Armory officer, and to reach her friend she’d have to break through the tough shell that he’d spent so much time building up around himself.

 She stepped in front of him, planting her feet and forcing him to stop. “Malcolm, I would never do that to you. You trusted me today and I take that very seriously. Please believe me. I won’t jeopardize that trust by doing anything to hurt you. Ever.”

 His face relaxed and the mask slid away. “Thank you, Ensign. I... I really appreciate it.” He looked down at the path as he spoke, intently studying what appeared to be an alien pinecone, but then glanced up at her curiously when she linked her arm through his and gave a gentle tug.

 “C’mon sir. We’re supposed to rendezvous with the captain and Commander Tucker at the pod in ten minutes.”

 Malcolm nodded, enjoying the feeling of walking arm in arm with her. “Right.”

 They headed to the rendezvous and he smiled when she brushed up against him after a few meters. _Maybe trusting someone isn’t such a bad thing._


	3. Chapter 3

Both teams made it back to the pod without incident and Trip ran through the pre-flight checks. Archer made as if to take the helm, but Trip claimed the pilot’s seat.

 “Commander?” Archer shot him a look, “You’re sitting in my chair.”

 Instead of moving, Trip gave him an apologetic shrug. “Beggin’ your pardon, Cap’n, but you took a  good whack to the head, so you might not be the best person to fly us home.”

 Archer nodded, conceding that it was a valid point, but before he took the Ops position he tapped his friend’s shoulder. “Just don’t crash us into any more lakes, Commander.” He continued with a smile as he sat down at Ops, “Besides, if I bust you down to crewman I’d have to go through all the trouble of appointing  a new Chief Engineer. So, unless you want to be scrubbing plasma conduits for the next year…” He shot Trip a stern look, letting the other man know that despite his jovial tone, he was at least somewhat serious about wanting to be extra careful.

 Trip agreed with an appropriately sheepish,  “Aye, Cap’n,” and started dutifully double-checking all the pod’s systems.

 The captain turned around to address the rest of his team. “Lieutenant, Ensign, find anything interesting?”

 Malcolm shook his head slightly. “Not particularly, sir.” The ensign handed Malcolm her med-kit before she entered the pod, and he started to secure it for her as she climbed inside. Archer smiled at the gentlemanly gesture and wondered, again, what the two of them had been taking about while they were twenty-thousand leagues under the sea.

 “Ensign?”

 “It reminded me of home,” she smiled, shrugging. “Sort of, anyway. It felt like some of the forests in Maine and New Hampshire, but in a land-before-time way. I wouldn’t mind camping here.”

 Trip nodded. “Yeah, I can imagine a stegosaurus hangin’ out in these woods.” He finished his second run-through of system checks, smiling too. “We’re ready to get under way, sir. So, what do you think of pitchin’ a few tents, Cap’n?” He turned, looking hopeful.

 Archer chuckled at his irrepressible friend. “Take us up, Commander. Well, none of us are seeing rock people, so if our exo-botanists give the local flora the all-clear, I don’t see why we shouldn’t spend a few days on a survey mission.”

 The pod took off smoothly and Archer went on thinking aloud. “T’Pol said there is sentient life on this planet, but they haven’t reached this continent. As far as technology goes they’re roughly equivalent to Earth’s Stone Age, so as long as we don’t leave anything behind and we make sure to keep our flight paths out of visual range of their settlements, we won’t contaminate their culture.”

 “No interaction, Cap’n?” Trip’s voice wasn’t quite pleading, but he did remind Archer of Porthos begging for cheese.

 Archer kept his voice stern. “ _None_ , Trip. We’ve all seen ‘The Gods Must Be Crazy’. So, unless you want some of these people to develop a religion around one of our emergency ration packs…”

 Trip sighed. “Aye, sir.”

 They docked a few minutes later and headed for Decon. Their uniforms had dried somewhat during the hour they had spent exploring the forest and coast of the lake, so they weren’t dripping anymore, but they were still damp enough to leave wet spots on the shuttlepod’s seats. Archer frowned at the wet areas, making a mental note to tell the shuttlebay crew to use decontamination procedures when they went over the pod.

 The team trooped into Decon and were greeted by the ever-cheerful visage of Doctor Phlox. “Ah, welcome home. I trust you had an interesting time on the planet?”

 Archer glanced at Trip, who gave an embarrassed grimace. “You could say that. It’s a great place if you enjoy swimming.”

 A frown creased Phlox’s face. “Swimming? Hmm, that may complicate matters… especially if there were any harmful microbes in the body of water which you chose to swim in.”

 Malcolm didn’t look up from emptying his pockets and said quietly, “Choice had very little to do with it.”

 The captain looked at him curiously, but didn’t have a chance to ask what the lieutenant meant by what he had said, because Phlox’s results came in.

 The doctor shook his head, looking apologetic. “I’m sorry, Captain, but it seems that all four of you have been exposed to an indigenous water-dwelling bacterium. I will load the appropriate decon gel and inoculants into the drawer while the four of you remove your uniforms.”

 Archer nodded. “Okay, Doctor.” He sighed, turning to the rest of his team. “You heard the man.”

 They all stripped down to their blues without question, and while the men removed their blue undershirts as well, Jean kept hers on for feminine modesty. They each put their damp uniform and black button-up into individual bags to be sent down to the ship’s laundry. After that, the next step in the procedure was simply to enter the small main area of Decon. Archer, Malcolm and Trip went ahead of Jean, who opened the drawer and removed the jar of gel which Phlox had loaded into it.

 “So, why blue?”

 Archer turned to look at Jean after she spoke up. “Ensign?”

 She shrugged, stepping into the main area of Decon and gesturing to the walls when the door closed behind her and the four of them were bathed in blue light. “Blue lights, blue undies… blue uniforms. Why is it all blue? Not that I mind,” she smiled, taking off the lid of the gel container and putting it on a shelf which they could all reach. “It’s always been one of my favorite colors. I’m just curious.” She took a dollop of gel and worked it between her palms before sitting down to rub the goo over her legs. “I mean, I get the Decon lights, since that’s probably something to do with the wavelength of the most effective light, but for our undies… were other colors considered?”

 Malcolm smiled slightly and shook his head, taking a couple handfuls of gel and beginning to spread it on his arms. “I haven’t the faintest idea.”

 Trip shook his head with a thoughtful frown. “Me neither. How ‘bout you, Cap’n?”

 Archer laughed. “Not a clue. I wasn’t consulted about that.”

 Jean stood and stepped towards the gel, taking a bit more and rubbing it between her hands. “Lieutenant, would you like me to get your back?”

 Malcolm nodded, and Archer thought he saw the hint of a smile on the Englishman’s face. “Thank you, Ensign. When you’re finished I’ll be glad to return the favor.”

 Jean seemed to fight a grin as she spread gel over the lieutenant’s shoulders. “Thank you, sir. That will save me from having to fend off Commander Tucker.”

 Archer chuckled, holding up a hand to forestall Trip’s retort and gesturing for the man to turn around so Jon could get the commander’s back. “I’m surprised, Ensign. I thought that Trip had been behaving himself around you.”

 She nodded, answering the captain as her hands started to move down the middle of Malcolm’s back. “He has, sir, but I’m still not willing to give him an inch. He’d probably take a light-year instead of a mile.”

 Trip let out a long-suffering sigh and his head fell forward as Archer spread gel over him. “When have I _ever_ not behaved myself around you?”

 Her hands stopped mid-motion and she gave him a look which wouldn’t have seemed out of place coming from T’Pol. Cold eyes, one eyebrow raised, the whole package. “How about every time you’ve ever spoken to me at the _602_? Or at the _Parrot_? Your unwelcome advances were pretty much the reason I stopped going to _both._ ” She smoothed herself out and spoke to Malcolm. “I’m done with your back, sir. Once you’ve done mine, I can do your neck while we wait for Phlox to give us the green light.”

 Malcolm nodded and started warming gel between his palms. “Sounds like a plan.”

 The lieutenant turned around and Archer saw that his Tactical Officer was smirking, but he wasn’t sure whether it was because of the barbs Jean had been aiming at Trip or if the man was just looking forward to a world-class neck rub from the ship’s massage therapist.

 Trip perked up at the prospect of a neck rub from Jean, which Archer realized would probably be more enjoyable for the heterosexual commander than getting one from a male colleague. The captain sighed to himself, silently praying that Trip would just keep his mouth shut. Unfortunately, it turned out that mind reading wasn’t a required course in engineering school.

 “Think you can do mine too?”

 Malcolm shook his head slightly as he worked on Jean’s shoulders. Archer met his eyes when the man briefly looked up and the captain could almost see a speech bubble containing the phrase ‘we are not amused’ floating in the air over the lieutenant’s head.

 “I don’t know, sir,” she hedged. “We may not be in here long enough for it to be worthwhile, and I’m sure the captain can do a great job.”

 “It won’t take all that long.” Trip shrugged and tilted his head to one side, giving her his most charming grin as he started on Archer’s back. “What’s the matter, Jean? Don’tcha like me anymore?”

 She leveled a glare at him, “Actually, _sir_ , I don’t,” she shook her head. “You’re Spanky again, until further notice.”

 Archer looked quizzically from Trip to Jean. “And what exactly does that mean?”

 Trip sighed when Jean didn’t answer, meaning that he was left on his own to give an explanation. “It means that friendship-wise, she just busted me back to crewman.”

 Jean had closed her eyes while they spoke, and she nodded in approval of his answer. “Yup. Meet Crewman 2nd Class, Spanky McDunderhead.”

 Archer fought to keep his facial expression neutral. “Why ‘Spanky’?”

 “My first impression of him, in the 602. He was drunk and when I was walking past his table he, well,” she mimed a slapping motion in midair and briefly opened her eyes to shoot Trip a dirty look.

 Archer shook his head, trying very hard not to laugh. “Trip, really…”

 Trip spluttered in protest, “Cap’n, I don’t even remember it. I was real drunk-”

 The captain lost his battle against the chuckles. “I’ll bet.”

 Jean gave a very put-upon sigh. “He didn’t believe it happened, so I found the security tapes and showed them to him. Like today’s mission, _sir_ , it wasn’t your finest moment.”

Trip waved his hand at her dismissively. “Ah, today wasn’t such a big deal...”

 Jean stepped towards the commander, staring at him with a look of utter disbelief. “Because of your negligence in checking out those engines we crashed into a lake. I don’t want to think about what might have happened if you had picked a course over the forest and we had a hard landing, but you still flew us into a lake, _sir_. What were you expecting? A gold star?” Her voice oozed sarcasm.

 The captain was surprised by Jean’s sudden shift in mood. Archer had thought that she was only teasing Trip, and he assumed that the glares and jibes which she had been aiming at the engineer were meant to be playful, but now he understood that her irritation with Trip was genuine. She must have been keeping herself in check for quite some time, and when he thought about it, Archer realized that Jean had actually been very careful to stay away from the topic of Trip’s failures that day. It was only when Trip characterized that day’s near-disaster as not being a ‘big deal’ that her self-control had apparently reached its limit.

 Under normal circumstances she wouldn’t have spoken to Trip like that in a professional context, and she certainly wouldn’t have done it in front of the captain, but she was evidently too upset to bother with propriety. “I know that you’ve already apologized to the captain, but one apology isn’t good enough. If I were your CO, I wouldn’t be so easy on you, and I certainly wouldn’t trust your professional opinion for quite a while. In fact, I’d start sending T’Pol down to Engineering to check on your work, not only to show you that you’d lost my trust, but because I know that you and the Sub-commander don’t get along.” She huffed, adding bitterly, “but the captain won’t do that. Guess it’s lucky for you that you and Captain Archer are old pals.”

 Archer’s eyes went wide, and he said, slowly and deliberately, in a tone that brooked no argument, “Ensign, that’s enough.” The insinuation that he played favorites with his officers bothered him.

 Her mouth closed with a quiet snap and she nodded crisply, adding after a minute, ”I apologize, sir. That was out of line. Put me on report if you feel it is appropriate.”

 The rest of their stint in Decon, which amounted to a few minutes, passed in tense silence until Phlox notified them that they were free to go. Malcolm was the first to leave, quietly slipping out after giving a questioning look to the captain, making sure that their CO had dismissed them. Archer nodded, and soon after, the lieutenant was gone. Malcolm stepped into the adjacent changing room and shrugged on Sickbay greens to wear back to his quarters, since the away team’s uniforms had been sent down to the shipboard laundry facilities to be decontaminated and washed.

 Reed hadn’t said much since the team had arrived in Decon, and he had stayed silent after Jean lit into Trip. Archer reasoned that the lieutenant probably found the situation too uncomfortable, and the fact that he was avoiding eye contact with Commander Tucker seemed to support that theory. The captain sighed. Reed had tried to point out that the alien craft was most likely a derelict and that taking it for a spin would be ‘unwise’. Maybe he _should_ start taking Reed’s concerns about unnecessary risks on away missions more seriously. The man had good instincts, after all, and he was only trying to do his job. Jon grimaced, knowing that a good number of the scrapes his people had found themselves in since their launch could have been avoided if he had only listened to either T’Pol or Reed. He nodded to himself, deciding that in order to look after his crew he would just have to do a better job of listening to the more cautious members of his staff.

__Shortly after Reed had left, the ensign got up, giving Trip a look which would have curdled milk on her way out the door. She paused briefly in the doorway, steadily glaring at the commander with what Archer’s Nana would call the ‘evil eye’.

“Dismissed, Ensign.”

Archer’s voice obviously startled her and she jerked slightly, her expression faltering for a moment. “Aye, sir.” Although she spoke to the captain, she didn’t take her eyes off of Trip until she turned around and stepped into the changing room to put on some greens of her own.

 Once the captain was sure that Jean had left the changing area, he nodded to Trip and they each grabbed a pair of scrubs to wear out of Decon. They dressed without speaking and headed out into the corridor.

 “Cap’n...” Trip started, but Archer held up a hand, stopping him. The commander looked worried and thoughtful, not usually a good sign for the exuberant man.

 “Don’t let what she said get to you, Trip. I’m not about to sic T’Pol on you, although it’s not a bad idea.”

 The engineer shook his head. “Naw, it’s not that. Just... if we weren’t old friends, you wouldn’t be goin’ this easy on me, wouldja?”

 Archer frowned, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand and wincing when he hit a sore spot. His brow wrinkled thoughtfully before he said, softly, “No, Trip, I don’t think I would.”

 Trip nodded, somehow not relieved to be right about that. “She was right about somethin’ else.” He spared a glance at Archer as they continued down the corridor. “It _was_ damn stupid, an’ one of us _could’a_ been killed. I’m a damn good engineer, but I musta missed somethin when I scanned those engines, ‘cause how else do you explain the way we dropped outta the sky and into that lake? Like she said, if I'd flown us in the other direction and we'd crashed on the ground instead of in the water, we all might have...” He shook his head, adding, in a low voice, “We got off lucky.”

 “Don’t tell her that.”

 Trip turned, giving his CO a perplexed look as they walked into the main part of the ship’s mess. “Why? Maybe if I do, she’ll back off.”

 The captain smirked, glancing sidelong at his engineer as they headed over to the drink dispenser. “Or, it’ll just confirm that she was right to bite your head off, and if you screw up again, she’ll do the same thing. I don’t disagree with most of what she said, but she shouldn’t have been the one saying it.”

 Each man filled a glass with their preferred beverage, and they crossed to the opposite end of the mess, where the captain’s private dining area was.

 “Ah,” Trip held up his free hand with a triumphant look on his face. “Then who would’a told _you_ how dumb _your_ idea to take the thing for a ride was in the first place?”

 They entered the captain’s mess and sat down, Archer shaking his head and Trip taking a sip of his lemonade. “ _You_ would have, as soon as we broke out the beer.”

 Trip laughed, pulling out a chair and flopping down into it.

 “Speaking of punishments, I was thinking…” Archer smirked evilly, “Cal Tech vs. MIT?”

 Trip groaned, laughing, and tossed a napkin across the table. It sailed through the air in a graceful arc before hitting Archer in the face. Archer tossed it back at him just as the steward brought in their dinner, and, feeling an obligation to set a good example for the rest of the crew, both men tried to act professional until their server left the room. However, once Crewman Daniels was gone, they burst out laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘The Gods Must Be Crazy’ is a South African comedy film originally released in 1980, written and directed by Jamie Uys. Set in Botswana, it tells the story of Xi, a Sho of the Kalahari Desert whose band has no knowledge of the world beyond. One day, a glass Coca-Cola bottle is thrown out of an aeroplane and falls to earth unbroken. The tribe thinks it is a gift from the gods, but the arrival of this object causes social problems which the tribe didn’t have before, and when Xi encounters Western civilization for the first time, he believes that the people he sees are gods because of their ‘magic’ technology. Parts of this film do a good job of showing the perils of cultural contamination, but as a whole it is a comedy and not an anthropological documentary.
> 
> In my headcanon, this film was shown at Starfleet Academy to illustrate the perils of cultural contamination.


	4. Chapter 4

Crew Quarters, C Deck, 2020 hours, July 8 2151

 Jean was just putting on some sweatpants and an old, comfy shirt when her door comm rang. "One second!" she called out, hoping whoever it was would hear her and be patient.

 There weren't many people on board who might show up at her quarters unannounced, especially in the evening. One of them, however, was Commander Charles Tucker III. After ranting at him in Decon about his behavior on the mission, she really didn't want to see him at her door. _Christ. If its Trip, I'm screwed._ She finished pulling on the shirt and walked over to the door. After chewing on her lip briefly, she nervously triggered the door open.

 The face she saw, though, wasn't Commander Tucker's. She was relieved, if surprised, to instead see Lieutenant Reed standing in the hallway.

 He seemed uncomfortable, as though he hadn't intended to find himself at her quarters. "Um, Ensign, I was wondering... if you weren't planning on doing anything this evening..."

 She smiled and shook her head, gesturing for him to come in. "Free as a bird. Please."

 He nodded quickly, his mouth almost twitching into a smile as he stepped inside. He hadn't been in her quarters since their first day on board, when he had helped her to find her way there. Now he couldn't help but notice how homelike everything looked. She had wall hangings, art, plants, and even decorative coverings draped over the lockers to make them seem less plain and boxy.

  _Never underestimate a woman's ability to redecorate._

 Before he got too far in admiring the décor, he was stopped by a warm, furry thing bumping up against his leg. Malcolm smiled, looking down at the young tortoiseshell cat. "Hello, Merri." He briefly stroked her head and she began to purr, her tail twitching into a question-mark shape.

 Jean smiled at him. "I'm surprised you remembered her name, sir."

 One corner of Malcolm's mouth remained quirked up in a smile. "She's only one cat, Ensign. Remembering her name isn't much of a challenge."

 She rolled her eyes at the joke but her smile didn’t falter. However, after a pause, her happy expression started to fade. "I didn't see you at dinner."

 He shifted uncomfortably. After clearing Decon he'd all but disappeared, even though he knew that Jean would want to talk to him. He owed her a proper conversation and proper thanks, but first he'd wanted to spend some time alone in his quarters. It'd ended up being about five hours before he'd found himself at her door, without a plan or a clear idea of what he wanted to say.

 "I ate in my quarters. I needed some time to think."

 She nodded, her mouth twisting into a sympathetic half-smile. "I'll bet. Would you like to sit down?"

 She gestured to her desk chair, then to the oversized armchair nearby which was large enough to comfortably seat two people. Her desk was just below the oblong viewport, and the armchair backed up against a wall which faced the main door out of her quarters. Even in friendly environs, he preferred to have a defensible position and a view of the exit. He opted for the armchair, nodding his thanks and groping for an explanation for his sudden appearance.

 However, before he had thought of anything to say, she spoke up. "When I was in high school, I had this idea that if I went to bed right after watching a scary movie late at night, I'd have nightmares. I never did, of course, but I always thought it would happen."

 Malcolm just looked at her, not sure where this story was headed. He sat down, settling in and hoping the 'why' would become clear fairly soon.

 She sat down on her bed, continuing. "So, what I'd always do was flip around until I found something else to watch, so that the last thing in my head before I fell asleep wouldn't be the scary movie." She gave him a significant look and he was still puzzled by the apparently random topic, but as she went on comprehension started to dawn.

 "Of course, what inevitably happened was that I'd end up finding a scarier movie to watch. I'd either watch it all the way through and go to bed early in the morning, or I'd stay up all night, worried that I'd have nightmares from the scarier movie, or I'd fall asleep on the couch during the movie and end up not having the nightmares at all. One time, a time I stayed up, I ended up watching 'The Shining' after sunrise the next morning."

 Malcolm had got her drift by now. She knew that he wanted to get his mind off of the mission before he fell asleep. She understood that he wanted to be thinking about something else for the next few hours. Once again, she was making things easy for him in her own special way. A way which involved a story and sharing information about herself. It was a way that involved absolutely no pressure and no judgments, and which could easily spawn a friendly conversation.

 "Were you alone?" He leaned back against the wall, finding, to his happy surprise, that there were pillows forming a head rest. He realized that she must have added those, since the standard setup was just an oversized armchair.

 She nodded. "Yeah. I'd stayed up all night alone, watching 'Aliens' and then I think 'The Abyss', so I was twitchy before it even started."

 Malcolm shook his head, fighting a smile as he pictured an adolescent Jean watching the Stephen King–based movie in that state. "That can't have gone well."

 Jean smiled unhappily. "Oh, it didn't. You know the scene in the mysterious room?"

 He looked thoughtfully at the far wall and gave his head a slight shake. He'd watched the movie years before, but he didn't remember it too well. He just remembered that it was very suspenseful, strange, and disturbing at some points. "Not really. I remember something about the man finding a beautiful woman in there, but then he kissed her and she suddenly became old and hideous."

 "I'll take your word for it. I've never seen that part."

 He looked confused. "Why not?"

 She leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees. Her expression was shy, almost embarrassed. "Promise you won't laugh?"

 He nodded solemnly. After today and how kind and supportive she'd been, the last thing he wanted to do was violate her trust. "I promise, Jean."

 She chewed on her lower lip, looking furtively from him to the floor and back again every few seconds. "I was hiding behind the couch."

 He stopped himself from laughing, but only just. Hiding behind a couch? God, that was just... funny wasn't strong enough a word. Malcolm bit down on his lip, trying hard to stop from grinning at the image. Jean, hunkering down behind the protective barrier of furniture, peeking out every so often to see whether it was safe to emerge. His shoulders shook a little with contained mirth.

 Jean rolled her eyes at him. "Fine, laugh it up."

 Malcolm didn't have to be told twice. He let out a rich chuckle, only intending it to be one, but a whole unauthorized series of them spilled out. "S-sor-sorry, Ensign," he said when he'd managed to get a hold on himself. He glanced over at her, expecting her to be annoyed, but she was smiling ruefully.

 "That isn't it, either. I missed other parts 'cause I kept pacing in and out of the room, hugging a throw-pillow to my chest like it was a teddy bear."

 Now Malcolm couldn't stop laughing, shaking his head as he pictured it. "Wh-whi-which c-came first, the pa-pacing or hiding?"

 "Pacing, I think. It was intermittent during 'Aliens', damn creepy movie. We're never watching that for movie night if I can help it. I held that pillow so tightly my arms hurt afterwards."

 His laughing slowed down and finally stopped. "What was the scariest part of 'The Shining' that you did see?"

 "The little girls." She shuddered. "I hate those little girls. They're just so damn creepy. 'Come play with us, come play with us'," she mimicked. "Little creepy Alice in Wonderland look-alikes."

 Malcolm nodded. "Weren't they dead?"

 "Yeah, their father had killed them for being disobedient or something. 'I corrrrrected them' was what he said in the freaky red bathroom."

 He was suddenly serious again. "At least my father never went that far."

 Jean briefly debated asking him to elaborate on that further, but apparently decided not to push her luck. "Good to know he's just a cold, judgmental, deeply unpleasant ass-hat and not a murdering scoundrel." She smiled at him, moving over from the bed to sit on one of the chair's upholstered arms. "Because otherwise he would have deprived me of an excellent friend."

 Malcolm tensed slightly. He didn't especially like it when she said things about his father. She had never met Stuart Reed, but during the course of becoming friends with Malcolm she had apparently picked up on the subtext of the lieutenant's strained relationship with his father. She knew that Malcolm's aquaphobia was the reason he hadn't carried on the Reed family tradition of joining the Royal Navy and that his father had all but severed communications with him when Malcolm joined Starfleet, and as she had told him during their Saharan survival training, 'I don't have to be a practicing psychologist to know that you have some kind of issues with your dad.' He still wasn't exactly sure how it had happened, but out in the desert Jean had got him talking about some of the crueler things Stuart had said when he and his son were still on speaking terms. She’d listened sympathetically, and when he was done she had made it abundantly clear that she didn't agree with Stuart Reed's opinion of his son. She was appalled by the things that the elder Reed had said to Malcolm while he was growing up, especially when it came to Malcolm's character and value as a person, and he really, deeply appreciated that she was so firmly on his side and thought so highly of him, but he didn't feel comfortable with how casual she was about insulting his father. He certainly wasn't close to the man and didn't take personal offence, but it still went against his sense of propriety. He didn't feel that he owed his father anything, but in a deep, secret corner of his heart, he still wanted the man's approval, if not his love. Love seemed to be something that Stuart Reed was incapable of, after all, so Malcolm had given up on earning that years ago, but he held onto the hope of earning his father's respect someday, and he knew that even permitting a friend to be disrespectful was not the way to achieve his goal.

 "I wish you wouldn't say things like that, Jean. It's inappropriate."

 "Even the part about how you're an excellent friend?" She shook her head. She did look slightly penitent, though. "I'm sorry, sir. I just don't understand why you defend someone who told you for years that you're a worthless coward. It's patently false, and even if it wasn't, it isn't something a father should say to his son under any circumstances."

 His mouth jerked into a half smile at the sentiment. The fact that she felt so strongly about his father was somehow very satisfying. It felt good to hear someone else saying the things which he'd been thinking for years, but the insults... "Thank you, Jean. Still, though, I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't –"

 "Okay, okay." She held her hands up in token of surrender. "I'll be nice. Besides, it isn't nice to attack someone in absentia."

 He let his shoulders relax again. "I'm glad we can agree."

 A mischievous glint appeared in her eyes and, seeing it, he studied her carefully. "I'll wait until I can talk to him face to face, and then I'll tell him exactly what I think of his parenting skills."

 Malcolm tensed up again until she put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Kidding, sir. I was only kidding."

 He shook his head. "That was not funny, Ensign."

 "I dunno, sir. You should've seen your face." Her smile disappeared. "Seriously, though, I don't like anyone who makes my friends think less of themselves, just as a general rule, but I'll try to keep my tongue in check, if that'll make you happy."

 He just nodded, leaning his head back against the wall and letting his eyes close.

 "So," she tapped her hands on her knees. "Do you want to talk more, or would you rather watch something?"

 Malcolm's eyes opened slowly and he thoughtfully studied the ceiling for a minute. "Watch something."

She nodded, seeming to have expected that reply. "Romance, comedy, action or drama?"

 He shook his head. "Your choice. I'm not particular."

 She looked at him sidelong and scrunched her mouth to one side. "That's an understatement."

 He sat up slightly, narrowing his eyes at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

 She shrugged. "Just, you aren't too picky about food, you don't seem to have set opinions about music... generally speaking, you _aren't_ particular."

 He crossed his arms, looking vaguely annoyed, and completed the visual with a mock-scowl. "Well," he shook his head, "I _particularly_ don't want to watch a romantic comedy with you right now."

 Jean grinned, tilting her head in amusement. "Fair enough. And I think we've had enough drama for one day." She didn't mean it as a complaint and hoped that he wouldn't perceive it as one. "No drama rules out 'West Wing' and 'ROME', and I'm in the mood for 'Buffy', but I'd rather wait until Trip's here to watch it with us."

 Malcolm bobbed his head, smiling a little. "So, Doctor Who, then?"

 Jean nodded. "Doctor Who." She was halfway to her desk, intending to pull up the file when she stopped in mid-step.

 His smile faded and was replaced by a worried expression. "Something wrong?"

 Jean turned back, facing him again with a mischievous grin on her face. "You know what?"

 Malcolm just shook his head, relieved at seeing her smile, but a little confused by the sudden change. "What?"

 She walked over to a cabinet near her bathroom and took out two tumblers and a bottle of something. She swirled the bottle around for a minute and Malcolm sat up, watching her closely and wondering what she was up to. "Jean?"

 She flipped on her monitor, scrolled around and found the next episode of 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer'. She had got him into the show shortly after they became friends during survival training a few years before, and ever since then they had been meeting up once or twice each week in the evenings to watch a few episodes and unwind after a day at work. Occasionally an emergency at Starfleet Medical would delay Jean, or an R&D project would distract Malcolm, but they always managed to make the time. However, while Malcolm was officially assigned to R&D, he was also occasionally sent on missions for Section 31, and that cut into the time they could spend together. He’d never told her about his Section 31 activities, of course, being under strict orders to maintain silence with anyone outside the programme, but keeping it from her weighed on his conscience.

 At first he had enjoyed the excitement of fire-fights and espionage, but having to run off at the drop of a hat and perform increasingly unsavoury tasks for his unscrupulous superiors finally lost its appeal, and being hand-picked by Jonathan Archer to be Tactical Officer on Earth's first warp 5 vessel was not only an honour, but a perfect way out from under Harris' thumb. Both he and Jean had been pleasantly surprised to find that they were assigned to the same crew, and at first they planned to resume their pattern of evenings together, but ever since their premature launch Malcolm's focus had mainly been on getting the Armoury and weapons systems up to scratch, so their friendship had taken a backseat to shipboard duties over the past few months. After their conversation on the planet today, however, he had resolved to start making time for her in his schedule again.

 She put the tumblers down on her desk, opened the bottle and poured some dark liquid into each glass. After closing the bottle, she grinned at him even more, her eyes twinkling. "I don't feel inclined to make any accommodations for Mr. Tucker right now. Do you?"

 Once the show was all set to play, Jean carried the glasses back over, giving one to him and keeping one for herself. He smiled into his glass, taking a quiet sniff of the drink and hoping to work out what it was. He could smell orange juice and something else, a subtle odour he didn't recognize. Instead of further trying to identify it, he thought about her question for a moment before looking up at her again. "No, I don't."

 Jean smiled approvingly and sat down next to him on the couch. She turned to him and raised her glass. "To surviving today's mission."

Malcolm started to raise his glass, but not knowing what was in it made him reluctant to join her in the toast. "Jean, what are we drinking?"

She gave an annoyed sigh, probably because his ever-present caution was throwing a damper on her plans, and she patted his arm reassuringly. "Screwdrivers made with mango-flavored vodka."

He nodded his understanding, still a bit less relaxed than he'd been before she poured out. "And you're giving me alcohol in your quarters because…? Not that I don't appreciate the hospitality, but-"

Jean raised her eyebrows, biting back a chuckle. "I'm not trying to seduce you, sir, if that's what you're getting at. Besides, if that was my agenda, I would've poured us some wine. It was a rough day for both of us, and I'd like a drink." She shrugged, seeming self-conscious as she looked down at the cushions instead of at him. "Just thought you could use one, too."

Malcolm smiled, leaning back against the couch and starting to relax again. "Thanks. Now," he looked into the glass, then back at her. "What are we drinking to?"

She tried to get comfy on the couch without crowding him. "Surviving the mission. That's a good first toast."

He raised his glass, clinking it with hers. "To surviving."

They both took generous swallows which, nonetheless, barely emptied the tall glasses.

Jean smiled at him over the rim of her glass. "I was really proud of you today."

He shot her a wary look and put aside his drink on a small table. "I thought we weren't going to talk about the mission."

She put her drink down too, shrugging one shoulder in a sheepish gesture. "Yeah… but it's important that you know. You did good, mister."

He shook his head in a tired protest. He really hadn't wanted to talk about this, to re-hash how cowardly and unprofessional he had been out there. "Jean… how can you say that?"

 She just laid her hand on top of his and smiled gently. "Because it's true."

 He got up, shaking his head as he paced over to the oblong viewport which ran above her desk and he stood there, staring out at the stars. He leaned his hands on the edge of the desk and watched as myriad stars passed by. Many of those stars were most likely the centre of planetary systems, and he couldn't help wondering how many of those alien planets had lakes or oceans.

 "Malcolm," Jean's voice at his elbow startled him out of his reverie and he jerked slightly. She smiled a tiny bit at his surprised reaction and rested a warm hand on his shoulder. "You faced your greatest fear today and you didn't crack."

 He huffed bitterly and looked away from her, letting his head hang slightly and trying to find his voice. "I fell to pieces," he ground out miserably. He took an uneven breath, still not ready to see the pity which he was certain would be on her face. "If you hadn't been there, I don't know— "

 "No, you didn't." Jean cut him off, giving his shoulder a not-so-gentle squeeze. "You only lost your head a couple of times when we were actually in the water, and you pulled yourself back together quickly each time. Sure, I helped, but _you_ did all the hard work."

 He gave his head a tiny shake, desperately trying to get a grip on his emotions. He had promised himself that he wouldn't do this, that he wouldn't let himself be reduced to a whinging mess. Why couldn't she understand why this was so difficult for him? It wasn't as though he had very much practice opening up to people, so he had literally no idea how to strike a balance between making a full breast of the matter while at the same time not making a bloody fool of himself. Even if he knew how to find that happy medium, admitting to anyone, even to her, how afraid he had been on that wretched mission wasn't something he was prepared to do.

 "I don't know what I was doing down there… it certainly wasn't my job, whatever else it was. God only knows what Captain Archer thought was going on. Fine security officer I am, needing to be rescued from my own damned neuroses." He shook off her hand and moved a few steps away, trying to put some distance between them.

 She wouldn't have it and moved to stand next to him again. "Malcolm, look at me."

 He reluctantly dragged his eyes towards her only after she nudged his elbow with her own, and he was pleasantly surprised to see pride and affection shining from her eyes. "There wasn't really anything for you to do down there, and aside from wondering what my problem is, Captain Archer and Commander Tucker are none the wiser. Your secret is safe and so are we, so just let yourself be happy, okay?"

 He lodged a half-hearted protest as her warm, earnest smile started to melt the last of his resolve. "Jean, you don't underst- "

 Jean lightly rested her hand over his mouth, quieting him, and shook her head in fond annoyance. "Utterly impossible." His eyes went wide in surprise, but before he could protest or stop her, she wrapped him in a hug and held him close, chuckling into his shoulder, "You, my dear sir, are utterly impossible."

 She loosened her hold a little and leaned back just enough to look him in the eye. "Now, you listen to me, and you listen good. You are a good man. You're a fine officer and a great friend… okay, the friend thing needs some work and you're much better company when your hull plating isn't polarized, but aside from that…" She drew him close again as she trailed off.

 Malcolm gave a dry chuckle at the hull plating quip, and despite his better judgement, he found himself hugging her in return. The warmth and solidity of her was comforting, somehow. He didn't know why that was, and he had never really understood why Jean was a self-described 'hugger', but he was certainly beginning to see the advantages of being on the receiving end of that kind of affection.

 "Now," she said to his neck, her breath warm against his skin, "what don't I understand?"

 He shook his head against her and swallowed hard. "I can't."

 She ran a comforting hand over his back. "Sure you can. Talk to me."

 Malcolm's breath left him in a ragged sigh. "I… wasn't brave down there. I was…" he grimaced, forcing himself to say the shameful words. "I was half out of my head with fear."

 She nodded against his shoulder, giving him a friendly squeeze. "I know."

 He pulled back from her, shocked. "You know? How did… Then why did you say… Why are you — "

 Jean offered a lopsided smile and held up a hand to quiet his sputtering protests. "I saw how scared you were, but what's that old quote? 'Courage is not the absence of fear, but acting in spite of it. The brave man is he who feels afraid and who conquers that fear.' You were afraid, but you kicked fear's sorry ass by jumping into that water and swimming ashore. You did what you had to do, and _that_ is why I'm proud of you." She closed the gap between them, drew him close again and hesitantly rested her head on his shoulder.

 He was surprised and strangely touched by the trusting gesture, and after a moment he closed his eyes, content to just enjoy the comfort she was offering.

 They stood like that for almost a minute before she spoke again. "Now, can we go back to the couch?"

 He took a steadying breath and then nodded into the crook of her neck. "Yes."

 "Okay." She let him out of the hug but kept hold of one of his hands.

 He smiled to himself, realizing why she hadn't let go. "Making sure I come with you?"

 She smiled and gave the hand in question a squeeze. "Yup."

 He squeezed back, oddly comforted by the feeling of her small hand gently urging him along. "Jean?"

 "Yeah?"

 Malcolm's voice dropped to a whisper. "I was bloody terrified."

 She smiled softly, still holding his hand, and turned to look at him. "And that's okay. As long as the fear doesn't control you, it’s nothing to be ashamed of."

 He shook his head, staring at her in profound confusion. "Why are you so patient with me?"

 "I dunno. "  She handed him his drink and grinned as they sat down again. "Guess I've gotten attached to you."

He nodded, happy enough to accept that answer, and took a swallow of his drink, only glancing over when she made a thoughtful noise. Her expression became more serious and she fiddled with her glass before looking up at him. "I'm patient with you because you're worth it, Malcolm."

 He started to feel something which Jean referred to as 'the warm fuzzies' set up shop in his chest, and he smiled warmly at her. "I'm very attached to you too, Jean."

 She patted his arm, smiling back. "Then I'd better not go anywhere." She clinked their glasses together and had a mouthful of her drink. "Malcolm? About time we started that show, don't you think?"

 He nodded, taking a gulp from his own glass. "Absolutely."

* * *

 

An hour of telly and two drinks later, Malcolm muttered to his glass, "Let's toast to old friends, like Commandah Thickhead Tuckah and Captain Impulsive."

 Her mouth fell open and she stared at him. "You liked that!"

 He looked confused. "What? I mean, what do you mean?"

 She shook her head as a smile started to creep over her face. "When we were in Decon and I was reading Trip the riot act, I was almost sure I saw you smirking a tiny bit. You liked that!"

 Malcolm sighed, swirling his drink around in his glass. "Now Ensign," _it doesn't hurt to remind her of her rank,_ "when you were dressing down Commander Tucker," _reminding her of his rank won't hurt either,_ "I happened to agree with most of what you were saying. It was a reckless idea on the captain's part made worse by Commander Tucker's negligence, and you were quite right that we were fortunate not to lose anyone because of it, but I did _not_ enjoy hearing a subordinate scold her superiors. I thought it was a most inappropriate and unprofessional thing to do."

 However, Jean didn't seem to buy it. She rolled her eyes and jabbed an accusing finger at him. "You liked it, sir. Their foolishness put you in a situation that you didn't need to be in. Are you telling me that hearing them brought to account for it didn't give you the least bit of satisfaction? Because I don't believe that, not for one minute."

 Malcolm sat back, squinting at her a little in the darkened room and wishing that she weren't so bloody observant. "I don't know what you're talking about, Ensign. As I said, I agreed with what you were saying, but after a certain point I felt it was inappropriate."

 Jean took a sip from her glass, narrowing her eyes as though sizing him up. He had a sneaking suspicion about what was going through her mind. More likely than not, something to the effect of 'the force is strong with this one. His powers of denial are impressive, no doubt, but I shall not be defeated!'

 "Nope, I don't believe you. You liked hearing it and seeing them squirm. They knew that they deserved to hear it. You saw how they didn't even try to argue to defend themselves!"

 He cocked his head at her, silently lifting an eyebrow.

 "Okay," she shrugged, deflating slightly. "Maybe I was a little too zealous," he nodded in agreement, "…but that doesn't mean I was wrong," she finished, looking defiant.

 Malcolm traced the rim of his glass with a fingertip, glancing up at her hesitantly. "I don't suppose your zealousness had anything to do with me?"

 It was Jean's turn to look confused. However, her confusion seemed to be mixed with a good deal of suspicion. "How do you mean?"

 Malcolm shrugged and kept playing with his glass, still looking up at her every so often. "Well, in Decon you made a point of saying that none of us should have been forced into that situation, but just now you said that _I,_ specifically, didn't need to be in that situation."

 She bit her lip very lightly, and he wondered if that meant he was on the right track. "You didn't need to be, but what does that have to do with anything?"

 He was looking at her steadily now and beginning to suspect that he was actually right about this. "You also said that hearing them 'brought to account' should have given me some satisfaction, and that I should have enjoyed 'seeing them squirm'. Jean, were you..." he shook his head, only half believing that he was having this conversation with someone. "Were you going for them on my behalf? As a sort of recompense for today?"

 Jean looked away, as though suddenly finding the opposite wall very interesting. "I don't know what you're talking about, sir. I felt that they'd been stupid and reckless and it could've gotten us all killed. None of us should have been in that situation." When she looked back at him now, her eyes were fierce but slightly wet. "You especially."

 Malcolm's eyes widened and his mouth hung open a tiny bit. It _had_ been for his benefit. The realization came with a sudden rush of warm feeling. His mouth closed again and he began to smile. She wasn't the captain's pit bull, as she'd claimed, to be used when he didn't want to do the dressing down himself and really go for a crewman. That reasoning didn't work, since she'd included Archer's reckless and irresponsible idea in the scolding. She'd been trying to watch out for _him_ even after they were safe again.

 His smile grew. "Thank you… but you really shouldn't have done that." He cleared his throat, trying to sound formal, but was dismayed to find himself sounding officious. "It was inappropriate and you might have got into trouble."

 She shook her head, smiling and not seeming at all put off by his by-the-book attitude. "Not with this captain. I've pretty much got the measure of him by now. He's a little bit of a pushover. Maybe you've noticed?"

 Malcolm didn't want to grin, he really didn't. Maybe it was the vodka, maybe it was the friendly company, or maybe it was the fact that he'd thought the same thing about Archer more than once; that the captain was lax in a way which left him open to misuse by the crew – a tendency which unfortunately didn't extend to taking advice from his security officer – but Malcolm found that his face was being stretched in a wide smile worthy of Phlox. He stopped fighting it and asked, certain of the answer now, "so it was for me, or on my behalf, at least."

 Jean shook her head, also failing to fight back a grin. "Sir, just shut up and drink your alcohol."

 He raised his glass as though toasting her. "Yes ma'am."


End file.
